I Still Have My Marbles... Barely.

[Back to Mordred]

About ten years

A shuddering breath escaped my lips as I stared at the ever-changing numbers displayed on my stopwatch.

A decade had passed since I first pressed start. A decade of suffering in this abyssal plane.

My left hand lowered fingers trembling as they hovered over my abdomen, just above the Agony Thorn embedded in my body.

My fingers curled into a trembling fist.

Even now, I can still feel the lingering coldness of her body when she pressed against me, her face so close to mine that I was able to discern the crystalline texture of her amethyst eyes.

She was so close… close enough that I could've reached out, wrapped my fingers around her slender neck, and snapped it in an instant.

Perhaps she knew of my thoughts, or perhaps it was her own twisted and sadistic pleasure. 

Just as Lilith congratulated me, she activated the Agony Thorn, unleashing an extreme avalanche of pain that brought me to my knees.

You would think that I would be used to pain by now, considering my experiences in my past life and four years in Blood Valley.

Oh, you're so wrong that it is quite cute.

Just as Lilith said, I would never get used to the pain unleashed by the Thorn.

Every time it activated, the agony was different. Unique.

Every time I even thought of defying her will, the Thorn flared to life. And sometimes, even when I did nothing, it still unleashed its torment, as if controlled by Lilith's whims.

What an abominable sadist.

It had happened so many times that my body now reacts instinctively at the mere thought of that freak. It's like a cold shudder, the ghost of the unbearable suffering crawling beneath my skin.

Even after becoming an S ranker, I couldn't escape the agony.

An S ranker…

The words echoed in my head as I sat down, my back pressing against the cold stone of my cell.

Lilith no longer shackled me to the wall, however, the damage caused by the spikes remained. Deep scars of spikes embedded in my flesh lined my wrist.

I wonder… now that I am an S-ranker, will I be able to properly heal?

I activated Haema and focused it on my wrist. I could feel the rush of blood, but that's all.

No healing and definitely no relief.

I let out a sigh. 

Figures. The wounds were healed long ago. The shackles were like the weapons held by the daemons that invaded Blood Valley.

Injuries by daemons leave scars that never fade away.

My eyes drifted forward and fell on the sight beyond the transparent wall of my cell.

Like an ominous, unblinking eye breaking through reality, the Tear hovered beyond the jagged walls of the fortress.

Its ominous energy permeated deep into my bones, and its gravity pulled my very existence toward its maw of swirling darkness.

A bitter chuckle escaped me. 

For ten years, I had stared at that rift, my only hope of escape. My only salvation.

So close… Yet so far.

I laughed.

Every single day, they dragged me out and threw me into the arena to be torn apart in their attempts to 'tame' me.

Genisix ripped into my flesh with his monstrous claws, his chains sinking into my body like fangs.

Asphodel played with me like a cat with a mouse, forcing me to unleash everything I had before striking me at my weakest.

Naberiax's blade carved into every inch of my body faster than I could react, faster than I could even draw my weapons.

They stabbed me. 

They disemboweled me. 

They shattered my bones. 

They shredded my muscles. 

They ripped my remaining limbs from their sockets.

And all the while, the black sand beneath me greedily drank my blood.

The only break I received was when Lilith healed me, restoring my body with a snap of her fingers.

Just so they could do it all over again.

And after they got bored with me, they would return me to this wretched cell, this taunting cage that forced me to stare at the one thing I could never reach.

I laughed harder, my vision blurring with tears.

What is the bloody point?

I suffered. I endured. I reached S-rank. I became a being on their level after ten years of torment.

But the pain from the Agony Thorn hadn't lessened one bit.

I calmed myself down. No use in losing my remaining marbles when I have just attained S rank.

I mean, I just crushed Genisix in the arena without even using any codes. Just my sword, blood appendages, and Blood Fire.

And I hadn't aged a day, despite the passage of a decade. 

Something to do with being unaffected by the flow of time or whatever cryptic bull Lilith said.

But my body did undergo some changes. 

It is more refined, and stronger. I'm now taller, and leaner, and have fully adapted to living with one arm.

My hair had grown quite long, reaching my waist until Naberiax cut off half the length while trying to turn me into sliced beef.

My sensitivity to ardor has reached an unprecedented level, such that I could sense every minute fluctuation of ardor around me.

My Ardor control, already at the highest precision a warlock can attain, has somehow become even more precise.

My strand control had surpassed even Vanis, who was the most powerful Haema user in the Order of Lux and among Deathwalkers.

Now that I have defeated Genisix, I believe I can properly defeat Asphodel without turning to the Madness of the Haema Incarnus.

And perhaps… I could hold my own against Naberiax.

My gaze drifted back to the Tear, and then to my abdomen. 

With this power, I could escape this nightmarish abyss.

I could return to her.

Iris. 

The yearning to see her again is the only thing that helped me endure these hellish years.

But then…

A voice spoke. A distorted childish whisper slithered into my mind.

"But do you deserve to leave this place?" 

A cold feeling enveloped me, and I shuddered.

The voices are back.

"Why do you yearn to see someone who doesn't even remember you?" 

The voice shifted into a deeper, rasping tone.

"You are an irredeemable sinner. You destroyed the lives of others and left nothing but ruin," 

It distorted again, coiling into a soft, feminine murmur that dripped with venom.

My nightmare flashed into my mind: the crimson sky, the landscape made of corpses, their limbs torn and innards spilling out and mixing with rotten blood.

The sheer weight of the macabre tableau before me pressed down on me, threatening to crush my soul.

"Everything you touch suffers. This is your punishment for your sins, in your old life and this."

The voices grew louder, and the horrifying images became more vivid, more visceral.

My body trembled, and I whimpered.

"Please. Not now. Just leave me alone."

The voices laughed. "You are alone, Mordred, and we are the only ones who know your true self."

Their laughter intensified, and I clamped my hands over my ears to no avail as they grew louder and clawed at my sanity, spitting curses at me and pulling me deeper into my nightmare.

I activated Haema. Blood seeped out of my skin and swirled around on both sides of my head.

In an instant, the blood crystallized into smooth metal spikes, each about the size of a pencil.

The whispers grew louder, and their voices morphed into the voices of those I care about.

The voices of my family and my friends, filled with hatred, tore into me.

The spikes rapidly spun as the voices threw venomous words at me, each plunging deep into my sanity.

They reached a cacophony before I heard her voice.

"Even without the Madness, you are a monster."

Iris's words plunged the deepest into my already broken sanity.

"Enough," I growled and drove the spikes into my ears.

Silence enveloped me, and warm blood trickled down the sides of my face.

I know that the voices are in my mind, but whenever I impale my eardrums, their torment ceases.

It's honestly quite relieving.

The words of the last voice still echoed in me. I let my head fall back against the cold stone.

Perhaps… I really am an irredeemable monster.

Then I remembered something, a memory of a lost from a distant past.

Something Eravon once told me when I was at my lowest point after Iris left.

"Even monsters can be redeemed."

How long has it been since I conversed with him? Since I last heard his voice?

After falling into the Tear, whatever force connecting our consciousness across universes was severed or blocked.

I stopped seeing him.

My gaze rose, and my lips parted to whisper what sounded almost like a prayer.

"Eravon. I hope you can hear me. Please. I need your guidance."

Silence. 

Of course, it would be like that. I just destroyed my own ears.

I let out a sigh and directed Haema towards my ears, healing them in an instant.

But even if I hadn't deafened myself, I doubt he would have heard me, considering how isolated this realm is.

Lilith's crafty handiwork, no doubt.

Still, just thinking about Eravon has calmed me down. 

A small smile crept onto my lips.

That wily warlock had a certain way of making others feel at ease.

However, just as quickly as it came, my smile faded.

I felt a familiar and disgusting aura from beyond the wall of my cell. It was thick and suffocating, even leaving a bad taste in my tongue.

Blegh.

My cell had no door. Instead, the walls were woven with some kind of daemonic code, such that only daemons could phase through.

And whatever they held.

I frowned as a familiar rooty son of a bitch walked into the cell.

The oppressive aura that terrified me years back now felt… rather insignificant. 

I could see that the daemon was wary of me, subtly so, but I could see it from the faint shifting of its body and the barely discernible hesitation in its movements.

The senses of an S ranker are truly exceptional.

"Must've been a shock," I said calmly, staring at the blank, featureless head of the daemon that brought me into this hell.

Asphodel, or Zygaxis, tilted its head, and the horrifying wide smile that I loathe stretched across the black canvas.

"Indeed, little prince. I was surprised about your victory against Genisix."

Its deep, distorted voice hummed on a casual tone, despite its wary composure.

The daemon leaned forward, its disgusting grin just inches away from my face, but I didn't flinch.

"He was the weakest one among us. Now that you are powerful, playing with you would be more fun."

Asphodel's voice dripped with amusement, despite the slight tension still clinging to its rooty form.

I held my gaze and spoke in a low voice. "I beat you once. I can bloody do that again."

A black root shot forward, stopping just an inch from my right eye. But I didn't blink or even give the daemon the reaction it was expecting from me.

"I look forward to my defeat, little prince," Asphodel's distorted voice echoed in the cell as it let out what sounded like a low chuckle.

A root coiled around my body, tightening with deliberate slowness as it lifted me off the cold stone floor of my cell.

"The High Commander wishes to see you."